The Backfire

As soon as the clock turned eleven, Mrs. Flaubert appeared on the ramp. She was smiling again.

“Line up, kids!” Mr. Deltoid roared. “Harry and Doug, stay put.” His hand was resting on Harry’s shoulder. “We need to talk,” he said softly.

Uh-oh, I thought.

Mr. Deltoid had a quick word with our teacher before she left. Then he joined our table. “So, do you boys want to tell me anything?” he asked.

I said nothing. I couldn’t tattle on my buddy.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow, Mr. Deltoid!” Harry said with a jack-o’-lantern grin.

Mr. Deltoid lowered his eyebrows. “Nothing about the partner drawing?”

Harry looked into Mr. Deltoid’s dark probing eyes. He was cornered. Very slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his blank strip of paper.

“It was like getting a Chance card in Monopoly,” Harry confessed. “There wasn’t a name on it, so I read it as Doug. We haven’t been partners all year. Not even once!”

“So you thought it was a Pick Your Own Partner Card?”

“Yes, Mr. Deltoid,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” I blurted out.

“Well, the partners came out even. And apparently, I did include one blank. But you should have acknowledged it instead of trying to sneak it by me.”

Harry nodded. “You’re right. I won’t do it again!”

Mr. Deltoid got up. “Okay,” he said, tapping the table. “We’ll leave it as it is. The T-shirts are already designed. But there is a consequence! You two are cleaning up this mess. Sponges and spray bottles are in the closet. I want every streak off these tables, and everything put away!”

“Absolutely!” Harry replied, standing up like a soldier and saluting him. “We’re on it! Right, Doug?”

“Right!” I agreed, then immediately picked up a green marker off the floor and dropped it into the tin can.

“When I return,” Mr. Deltoid added as he walked up the ramp, “I expect to find your work done, and done well.”

I knew where he was going.

To the cafeteria, which was on the same basement floor as the gym. He wanted another warm cookie.

It didn’t take us long to gather up all the Magic Markers and get them back in the tins. Harry rubbed and scrubbed the colorful streaks off one table, and I wiped down the other. “No more marks,” I said proudly.

“Great! I’ll put the markers away,” Harry said, and he carried the tins into the open supply closet.

When he didn’t come out right away, I started to wonder what he was doing in there. After a minute or so, I decided to check on him. “What’s taking you so . . .”

My eyes felt like they’d popped out of my sockets.

“HARRY! What are you doing?”